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white Bird, The Little Indian 


BOOKS BY 

MARY HAZELTON WADE. 


In the '‘Indian Series!^ 

TEN LITTLE INDIANS, 

Stories of how Indian Children lived and played. 
TEN BIG INDIANS, 

Stories of Famous Indian Chiefs. 

INDIAN FAIRY TALES, 

As told to the Little Children of the Wigwam. 

TEN INDIAN HUNTERS, 

Stories of Famous Indian Chiefs. ■* 

Ten full page illustrations. Price $i.oo. 


In “Uncle Sam’s Old Time Stories Series.” 

THE COMING OF THE WHITE MEN, 

Stories of how our Country was Discovered. 

OLD COLONY DAYS, 

Stories of the first Settlers and how our Coun- 
try grew. 

BUILDING OF THE NATION, 

Stories of how our Forefathers lived, and what 
they did to make our Country a United one. 

Fully illustrated. Price 75c. 


NEW LITTLE AMERICANS, 

Stories of and about the children living in our 
new possessions, and under the Stars and 
Stripes. 

Fully illustrated. Price $1.00. 

LITTLE FOLKS OF NORTH AMERICA, 

Stories of Children living in the different parts 
of North America. 

Illustrated. Price $1.00. 








White Bird, 
The Little Indian 


BEING THE STORY OF A RED CHILD AND 
HER LOVE FOR A LITTLE PILGRIM 

BY 

MARY HAZELTON WADE 


Colored Frontispiece by 
SEARS GALLAGHER 



W. A. WILDL COMPANY 

BOSTON CHICAGO 



Copyright, 1912 
By W. a. Wilde Company 

All rights reserved 

White Bird, The Little Indian 




'feCl.A3a0370 

^ I • 


Foreword 


L et us travel back in our minds to the 
days of long ago, — the days when the 
red man roamed freely throughout New 
England, without a thought that others of a race 
quite different from his own, would ever be the 
owners of the land and the rulers over it. In 
those days there were no roads, — only narrow 
trails which the constant treading of many feet 
had beaten down through the forests. There 
were no cities or towns ; but scattered here and 
there through the wilderness were tiny villages, 
made up of perhaps a dozen huts. There were 
no stores where the men could trade, exchang- 
ing pieces of money for the various articles used 
in the simple housekeeping. Each family de- 
pended upon itself to obtain from the sea, the 
earth, and the air enough to provide whatever 
food, clothing and shelter were necessary. 

In their light canoes the men paddled down 
the streams and went out for short distances 

5 


6 


Foreword 


upon the sea to procure fish. With their bows 
and arrowy they brought down geese and ducks 
as they flew overhead, or hunted deer and tur- 
keys in the forests near their homes. 

The women planted fields of corn to furnish 
their families with the sweet and tender grain 
they all loved so dearly, tanned the skins of the 
deer brought home by the men, plucked and 
dried the feathers of the wild geese and turkeys, 
braided rushes and grasses into mats with which 
they formed the covering of their wigwams and 
the only beds known to themselves and their 
families. 

The children picked berries, gathered grasses 
which they wove into baskets, and helped in the 
light housekeeping. Proud indeed was the boy 
when his aim had become so true with his tiny 
bow and arrow that he could hunt game with 
his father; equally proud was the girl when she 
grew so skilful in working out patterns in the 
baskets and mats that she wove that her mother 
praised her for her careful work. 


Foreword 


7 


Among the red men of that olden time there 
were days of plenty when, joyous and care-free, 
the people enjoyed feast after feast. Many 
songs were sung and many stories told; dances 
were given in wild, strange costumes that filled 
the child-onlookers with wonder and delight. 
But there were also days when the larder was 
empty, because King Frost kept the animals in 
hiding and the hunters were forced to come 
home with empty hands. Or, perhaps, wolves 
broke into the store of grain and devoured it 
while the spring was yet far away. 

Then, indeed, the children of the red men 
crouched near the fire of the wigwam, striving 
hard to hide the hunger which cried out within 
them. In the midst of this wild, free life some- 
thing new and exciting entered in, — it was the 
coming of the white men. 

At first it was the visit of a ship, that, in pass- 
ing, stopped for trade and barter on the shores 
of New England. Everything about the stran- 
gers was interesting to the red men, — the color 


8 


Foreword 


of their skins, the curious dress, the weapons, so 
terrible and deadly, which brought at each dis- 
charge, the thunder from heaven. The speech, 
too, which none could understand, except as 
motions of the head and hands helped to inter- 
pret it, filled the simple savages with wonder. 

But when one of these ships left the shore, 
carrying on board some of the red men as pris- 
oners, it is no wonder that the friends and rela- 
tives left behind were filled with anger, and fear 
of the white men laid hold upon their hearts. 

Then, when a few of these white traders after- 
wards fell into the hands of the red men, it was 
not strange that they were treated with cruelty, 
which caused the death of one after another. 
The last of all gave a warning in his dying 
words, — a warning that, before long, everyone 
in that Indian village where he had been kept 
prisoner, should shortly meet death. 

Soon afterwards the plague fell upon the 
people, and in a few days not one of them re- 
mained alive. The prophecy had come true. 


Foreword 


9 


It was to this very spot that the Pilgrims 
journeyed in their wanderings. Some of the 
red men who dwelt along the bleak shore were 
ready to welcome them and give them help. 
This was partly through fear, because they re- 
membered the prophecy and its fulfillment. 
There was also another reason. Among them 
was one who had been taken prisoner by a 
trading ship and had been carried to distant 
lands, but who had been brought back to tell 
wonderful stories of the goodness as well as the 
power of the white men. 

These Indians were ruled over by the wise 
chief Massasoit. Acting under his advice, they 
became the friends of the Pilgrims, though their 
ways seemed strange and curious. 

Slowly, yet surely, this friendship grew, and 
well it was for the Pilgrims, for not far distant 
were other tribes who hated the white men and 
were ready, when a chance should offer, to do 
them harm. But that is another story. 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I The Deserted Village .... 13 

II An Evening with Squanto ... 30 

III Strangers on the Shore ... 41 

IV The Long Ago 51 

V The Fight 64 

VI The Coming of Bright Star ... 74 

VII The New Home 90 

VIII The Meeting with Bright Star . 97 

IX The Visit 113 

X A White Sister AT Last . . . .121 




WHITE BIRD 

THE LITTLE INDIAN 
CHAPTER I 

THE DESERTED VILLAGE 

6 C y ITTLE WHITE BIRD, the sun puts 
I j you to shame. It is already high 
above the great water. Come, the 
Hay’s work is waiting.” 

So spoke the red child’s mother as she gave 
her a gentle shake. 

White Bird’s eyes opened wide, and without 
stopping to yawn or stretch herself, she sprang 
from her mat and, throwing back from her face 
her long, black hair, darted out of the wigwam. 

The air was crisp and a white sheet of frost 
Spread over the earth all around her. But the 

13 


H 


White Bird 


sun, still round and low, seemed beckoning to 
the child from the eastern sky. 

come, bright sun, I come,” White Bird 
whispered as she ran down the pathway to the 
ocean which stretched broad and blue before 
her. 

A moment afterward she had plunged into the 
waves, for the morning bath must be taken, no 
matter how cold was the day. And if she 
stopped to think about it she would only shiver 
the longer and it would be all the harder. 

One, two, three times White Bird disappeared 
beneath the waves ; then, breathless and dripping, 
and with her red skin purpled by the cold, she 
ran up and down in the morning air. 

Now home again! The Indian mother was 
already building the fire and preparing thick 
slices of deer meat for breakfast. White Bird’s 
father and her brother Red Deer beside him 
were still sleeping. The little girl knew this 
because their eyes were closed and they breathed 
heavily. 


The Deserted Village 


15 


‘‘It is good to be a boy,” thought White Bird, 
as she put on her garment, an apron of deer skin, 
and began to help her mother. 

“But after all,” she considered, “Red Deer will 
soon be a man. Then he will meet trouble and 
danger. He must be ready to fight and defend 
his women folks from the enemy. He must 
work hard to get them food, and, if he fails, he 
will be jeered and scorned for his want of suc- 
cess. No, I am glad that I shall grow up to be 
mistress of a lodge. By-and-by I will have a 
corn field of my own to plant and shall weave 
mats and baskets in whatever pattern I think 
good.” 

Nine summers had passed since White Bird’s 
black eyes had first looked into her mother’s 
loving face. For nine cold New England win- 
ters she had toasted her feet before the fire- 
place in the middle of the lodge, and now her 
birth month was at hand, for the hunter’s moon 
had already appeared in the heavens. 

“More wood; come. White Bird, to work,” 


i6 


White Bird 


chided the mother as she noted the dreamy look 
in her little daughter’s eyes. 

Away to the woods ran the child, without 
waiting for a second bidding. 

As she came back with a load she was greeted 
by the delicious odor of roasting meat. Not al- 
ways was there breakfast in that Indian house- 
hold. Sometimes it was because the game had 
proved scarce or foxes had broken into the store 
of corn. Again, it might be that Two Bears, 
the child’s father, was away on a long hunt and 
it was well to fast. If the family got in the 
habit of eating regularly every morning it would 
not be easy to go without food when obliged to 
do so. 

But now, how good that deer meat smelled! 
White Bird took long sniffs of delight. 

While she was away her father and brother 
had risen and taken their morning plunge. The 
old grandmother, whom White Bird loved next 
to her mother, was also stirring and already 


The Deserted Village 


17 


shaking the sleeping mats and putting them in 
place for the day. 

And now the slices of venison were taken, all 
black and charred, from the fire. The ashes 
were brushed from the best and thickest pieces 
and laid on a rough wooden plate. 

At a signal from his wife. Two Bears sat 
down cross-legged on one of the mats, his son 
beside him. The meat was placed before them 
and they began to eat the simple breakfast. 

White Bird’s stomach was already calling 
loudly for food, but she must not think of eating 
yet. To sit down with the men folks and not 
wait till they were satisfied! Why, that was a 
thing unheard of among Indian fashions. The 
little girl must stand ready to serve them, to fetch 
them cold water, to refill their plates if they 
wished, — yes, that was her work. And, by-and- 
by, when they had finished and gone out from 
the lodge, she would sit down with her mother 
and grandmother, and eat what remained. 


i8 


White Bird 


“It grows late in the year,” said White Bird’s 
mother, as her little daughter was still busy pick- 
ing the last titbit of tender meat from the bones 
which had fallen to her portion. “Our store of 
nuts is small for the winter. You shall go to-day 
and fill your baskets. Follow the trail to the 
north of us and you will find many trees.” 

White Bird looked up with solemn eyes. 
“Yes, I know. It is the trail towards the de- 
serted village.” She spoke slowly. 

“Yes. But you need not fear. Think of your 
totem and you will meet with no harm,” said 
the old grandmother, who had been listening 
and watching White Bird’s face. She pointed 
to the figure of a fox which Two Bears had 
painted on a large stone and had then set up 
in the place of honor in the home. The same 
figure could be seen on several of the mats which 
lined the walls of the wigwam. The spirit of 
the fox, so Two Bears believed, was the guardian 
of himself and his family. 

A few minutes afterwards the Indian child. 


The Deserted Village 


19 


bareheaded and barefooted, was running lightly 
along the trail of which her mother had spoken. 
She carried two large baskets which she had 
made the summer before. They sent out a 
pleasant odor, for White Bird had woven sweet 
grass in among the rushes. How the child loved 
this grass, and what quantities she gathered ev- 
ery year, not only for her own work, but for her 
mother and grandmother! 

The baskets must be filled with nuts before 
she could go home, but it was still early and she 
had the day before her. 

On she ran, on, on, for a mile or two, with not 
even a stop! Why did she not lose her breath 
and gasp, as a white girl would have done? Be- 
cause she had been trained to run, as other chil- 
dren are to walk. And, also, because there were 
no tight bands about her waist, no stiff leather 
binding the little feet which were planted on 
the ground so firmly. 

How good the clear, crisp air was! How 
bright the sun! How blue the sky! 


20 


White Bird 


Faster and faster she flew with her black hair 
streaming behind her! The trail was narrow, 
but well trodden, for it had been made by the 
passage of Indian feet over it through years and 
years of travelling, tens, hundreds of years may- 
be. White Bird had never thought of such 
big numbers as these years could tell. 

After she had travelled some five miles or 
more, she stopped to look among the trees on 
either side of the trail. Was this a good place 
to begin her search for the nuts? She sat down 
to consider. Two gray squirrels among the 
branches overhead began to scold. They said, 
so White Bird thought, “Go away, go away. 
We won’t let you get our store of nuts. We 
have hidden it safe from your sharp eyes!” 

A big, white rabbit came hopping along 
through the bushes. “If Red Deer were here, 
he would shoot you with his arrow,” White Bird 
said. 

At the sound of the girl’s voice, the rabbit 
looked up with its blinking pink eyes. Then 


The Deserted Village 


21 


away it scurried, rattling the dry leaves under- 
neath. 

“No, I will go farther yet,” the little girl de- 
cided after a few minutes’ search. “Nuts can 
still be found on the walnut trees, but they are 
not thick. The picking would be slow.” 

Taking up her baskets, she went on, still run- 
ning as lightly and easily as though just starting 
out on her errand. Sometimes she and her play- 
mates made up a party to go after nuts or ber- 
ries. Then they had great fun playing pranks 
on each other and making merry jests. But for 
a change. White Bird liked the quiet of to-day. 
She had many dreams, this little Indian child. 
She liked to think of the strange beings about 
whom her grandmother told stories. She im- 
agined her meeting with them in the woods, and 
the wonderful things that happened at these 
times. Then, too, when she was alone, she could 
listen better for the voice of the Great Spirit, 
who speaks to his red children through the 
many voices of Nature. The ants, the crickets, 


22 


White Bird 


the robins, the breeze as it moves through the 
branches of the trees — all these bear messages 
from the Great Spirit. Even the leaves whis- 
per his words. Ah! one must try so hard to un- 
derstand what he wishes to say. 

White Bird had forgotten the fear that en- 
tered her heart when her mother told her to fol- 
low this trail. The world was too bright and 
beautiful for fear. She had the whole day be- 
fore her, too. Not till the sun set in the late 
afternoon did she need to return. 

Another five miles had been travelled before 
the child found a good nutting ground. The 
trees here were so heavily laden, late as the sea- 
son was, that White Bird’s baskets were filled 
with ease. She only wished that she had 
brought more than these two. Ah! she had a 
good thought. She would dig a hole in the 
ground, a deep one, and line it with leaves. 
Then in should go the extra nuts and the whole 
should be covered with stones. Squirrel and his 
squaw could not get them now. 


The Deserted Village 


23 


With the aid of a sharp-pointed stick, White 
Bird’s fingers worked busily. The task done, 
the little girl gathered stones and packed them 
closely together over her store. To-morrow, 
maybe, or the day afterwards, she would come 
to get them with Red Deer and bring them 
home. 

The sun was now high in the heavens, and 
straight over her head, so it must be midday. 
The little girl could see it through an opening 
in the tree tops. The clear, sharp air had made 
her hungry, though she seldom ate at noon time. 
But there were more nuts on the trees, and as 
there was time to spare, she would gather some 
for her own eating. 

will climb yonder hill,” thought White 
Bird. ‘^There I will sit down where the warm 
sun will bathe me and I will crack my nuts and 
feast on the sweetmeats.” 

Away she went, and soon she reached an open 
space on the hilltop. 

Far out beyond her lay the great ocean. Be- 


24 


White Bird 


low were fields where corn must have been 
planted not long ago. But there was no wig- 
wam in sight, no sound of people’s voices. 

White Bird shivered, yet she was not cold. 
For the first time since she had left home she 
suddenly felt queer and lonely. 

Those deserted corn fields 1 Yes, here and 
there, the little girl could see small piles of 
blackened stones, which had once been the fire- 
places in happy Indian lodges. The little red 
children who had played in these fields only a 
few years ago — where were they now? All, all 
were gone, carried off by the fearful sickness 
which the greatest medicine men in the tribe 
could not heal with the strongest charms they 
could use. 

Was the Great Spirit so angry with his peo- 
ple that he destroyed the whole village? As 
White Bird asked herself this question, her 
hands, which had been busy cracking nuts, be- 
came idle. 

Again she shivered as she thought of the time 


The Deserted Village 


25 


when people were living here, free and happy. 
She could not remember when it was, she was 
such a little girl then, but her grandmother had 
often told her the story — how men, looking out 
to sea, saw a black speck in the distance. As 
they watched, it became larger and larger. It 
was black no longer now, but appeared like a 
great bird with white wings floating over the 
water, and coming fast toward the shore. 

And at last it showed itself not a bird, but a 
big canoe — Oh, very big — and men sat along its 
sides, and laughed and talked. 

When they had come into shallow water, a 
smaller canoe was let down from the big one. 
Then men entered it and came to the shore. 
Their hands and faces were white and their 
bodies were covered with heavy garments. 
When they spoke, their \vords could not be un- 
derstood by the red people. Then they made 
signs, showing that they wished to trade. They 
wanted furs and fish, and in return would give 
such things as the Indians had never even 


26 


White Bird 


dreamt of. There were clear sheets of stone 
which would break very easily and looked like 
the surfaces of ponds. In them the red men 
could see exact pictures of themselves. There 
were bright-colored beads, and other things 
most beautiful. 

Although the faces of the strangers were of 
the color of white wampum which the Indians 
treasure so highly, they were not pleasing. 
^‘Ughl Ugh!” grunted the red men. “We do 
not want them here. We will destroy them.” 

Seizing their arrows, they rushed upon the 
white men and killed all but five. These were 
made slaves, and many were the hard tasks 
which they had to perform. Much they suf- 
fered, so bitterly, indeed, that in a short time 
they sickened and died. But before the last 
one came to his end, he spoke words to the In- 
dians that they would never forget. 

“The Great Spirit is angry with you,” he told 
them. “He will punish you for being so cruel 


The Deserted Village 


27 


to my friends and myself, for he loves us ten- 
derly. Yes, he is so angry that he will destroy 
you all for what you have done to us.” 

“Ugh! We are too many. The Great Spirit 
cannot do that,” answered the red men, and they 
were not afraid. 

But not long after the death of the French- 
man, a sickness fell upon the village. One wig- 
wam after another became empty of its people. 
The corn fields were tended no longer. No 
more did the hunters go forth after deer. The 
voices of joyful young men and maidens could 
no longer be heard along the shore in the sum- 
mer evenings. The plague raged till the whole 
village had been wiped out. 

As White Bird thought of what had hap- 
pened only four years ago, her eyes grew big 
and bright with wonder. 

“The white men must be very great,” she said 
to herself. “They must be dear to the Great 


28 


White Bird 


Spirit. And I wish I could look on a person 
with a skin all white, — so different from my 
own.” 

The little girl spread out her hands in the sun- 
shine. How different they were from those of 
the strangers who had come here from across 
the Big Water 1 The color was beautiful in the 
eyes of her people. Was not the wampum used 
in trade, and the only money known to the red 
man, made from the polished white lining of 
sea shells? Why, the good and great chief 
Massasoit had a wonderful coat made wholly of 
wampum. It was worth very, very much more 
than White Bird could picture to herself. “At 
any rate,” she said to herself, “I will try to 
have a white heart which shall be pleasing in 
the eyes of the Great Spirit.” 

As the little girl sat dreaming on the hill top, 
the autumn sun was fast travelling to his home 
in the west. Long shadows began to fall around 
her. She sprang up with a start, seized her bas- 
kets, and started homeward in haste. . Bears 


The Deserted Village 


29 


might be waking up from the day’s sleep in the 
woodlands through which she must pass, and 
she did not like the thought of meeting Mr. 
Bruin alone. 


CHAPTER II 

AN EVENING WITH SQUANTO 

W HILE White Bird was away from 
home gathering nuts, her father and 
brother had taken their bows and ar- 
rows and gone bird-hunting along the shore. 
They had been successful, and before the little 
girl got back to the wigwam they appeared in 
the doorway with long sticks from which six 
ducks were hanging. With them came a guest, 
the good Squanto, whom everyone loved. 

White Bird’s mother dropped the mat she was 
weaving and sprang up to take the birds. 

The morning fire had died out hours ago. 
It must be kindled anew, that the birds might 
be roasted for supper. The woman went to a 
corner of the wigwam, picked up two pieces of 
flint, and began to rub them together. Bright 
sparks soon came flying forth. Still rubbing the 

30 


An Evening With Squanto 31 


stones against each other, the woman bent over 
the fireplace, letting the sparks fly towards 
some dry leaves and tiny twigs. They began 
to crackle, and flames leaped forth. In a short 
time a big fire was roaring, and sending columns 
of smoke up towards the hole in the roof over- 
head, which served as a chimney. The ducks, 
still in their coats of feathers, were taken from 
the stick and laid in the hot ashes, where a hole 
was scooped out under the burning wood. They 
would soon be roasted. 

The squaw had taken the birds from the ashes 
and was already skinning them, when White 
Bird appeared with her baskets of nuts. 

A loving look came into the mother’s eyes 
when she saw her little daughter. Perhaps, 
even though an Indian, she had been troubled 
at the child’s long absence. Twice she had 
stood in the doorway, and, holding her hand 
above her eyes, had looked out into the gather- 
ing darkness. Once she thought she heard the 
howling of a wolf in the distance. Why had 


32 


White Bird 


her one little White Bird delayed so long in com- 
ing, she wondered. So now, when the child ap- 
peared safe and sound, the mother’s heart was 
glad. But she said nothing to show her de- 
light. Neither did she scold her daughter for 
staying away so long. She merely pointed to 
the birds, and made a motion towards the men’s 
side of the wigwam, as much as to say, “Make 
haste to help me serve the supper. See! a guest 
is waiting.” 

At the sight of Squanto, White Bird’s heart 
was glad. By-and-by she could listen to his talk 
with her father. His stories were better than 
fairy tales, and quite as wonderful as the ad- 
ventures of Glooskap, that strange being of 
whom her grandmother had told her so much. 

Poor Squanto! She was sorry for him too. 
How terrible it must have been for him to come 
back to his village and find all his people dead! 
There was no friend to greet him; neither 
mother nor father, brother nor sister waiting in 
the doorway of the wigwam to receive him. 


An Evening With Squanto 33 


He was the only person left who belonged to the 
deserted village she had looked at this after- 
noon. 

Why was this? Because he had been carried 
off in a white man’s big canoe before the plague 
ever had fallen upon the village. And he had 
crossed the big water 1 He, Squanto, had lived 
with the white men in lands far away, lived in 
ways not known to the Indians. But he had 
come back after many years, and was happy in 
taking up again the life of his early days. 

Gladly did White Bird serve her father and 
his guest that night, ever ready at her mother’s 
bidding to refill their plates. The men, with 
Red Deer beside them, ate silently, after the 
manner of their people. Afterwards, as the 
night was cold. Red Deer placed fresh wood 
upon the fire, and, after the pipe of friendship 
had been smoked by Grey Eagle and his friend, 
they began to talk. 

At first the men spoke of the hunt, and of some 
foxes which had been seen in the neighbor- 


34 


White Bird 


hood that day. Then there were words of 
praise concerning the good Massasoit, whose 
home was farther south. He had been made 
chief of the tribe because of his wisdom. 

“He loves his people,” said Grey Eagle. 
“His rule is strong, but kind.” 

“Yes, yes,” granted Squanto. “The white 
men across the big water have no chief like 
him.” 

White Bird bent forward. If only Squanto, 
or Tesquantum, as Grey Eagle sometimes called 
him, would say more about these strange white 
men to-night. But she must not ask him to do 
so. Oh, no, a little girl could never think of 
being so bold. Just then her father asked a 
question. 

“How many white men in that village across 
che water where you stayed?” 

Squanto would have smiled at the question 
if he had not been an Indian. 

“So many, whyl you cannot tell,” Ke answered 
slowly. “Wigwams close together, big wig- 


An Evening With Squanto 35 


warns, very big, and tall. Houses, the English- 
men call them.” 

Squanto raised his hand high up into the air. 
^‘Most up to the clouds,” he declared solemnly. 
^^And the people, — many, many people in one 
wigwam, some in one part and some in another. 
Just as if great number of wigwams all in one.” 

Squanto was thinking of the rooms into which 
one English house was divided, so different 
from any Indian lodge he had ever known. 

^^It is the braves who make these wigwams, — 
not the squaws,” he continued. ^^Great noise 
when they build. They pound, pound, pound 
with heavy sticks. Long strips of wood they 
use. So strong are these lodges made that they 
last many winters, yes, as long as the bodies of 
the white men themselves.” 

“Ugh!” said Grey Eagle. “Good wind can- 
not enter the wigwams there and take out all the 
smoke and bad air.” 

Squanto shook his head. “Lodges shut tight; 
that is so,” he replied, “But there is no smoke 


36 


White Bird 


for the wind to carry out. Smoke from burn- 
ing logs goes up” — Squanto pointed up towards 
the roof — “through a long pipe, — so. White 
men call it chimney.” 

He sat silent for a time thinking; then he be- 
gan to talk once more, telling of the cruel white 
men who had sailed into Plymouth harbor long 
ago, and who had stolen him and nineteen more 
men from his village. He spoke of others not 
of his village who had been carried off at the 
same time. They belonged to the tribe called 
the Nausets, to the southeast of Plymouth. 

“Why were we stolen?” Squanto asked. “It 
was that we might be sold as slaves to other 
white men.” 

Grey Eagle scowled. 

“And yet you love the white men!” he mut- 
tered. 

“Some white men are bad, very bad. So some 
red men are bad,” Squanto answered. “But 
other white men are good the same as other red 
men. The bad white men were cruel to me. 


An Evening With Squanto 37 


They made me work hard all day long, day after 
day. I thought Squanto would die and never 
see his native land again. But then a good 
white man saw me, an Englishman he was, and 
he liked me. He bought me from my cruel 
master. He was very kind to me. He taught 
me to speak like the white men. He gave me 
white men’s clothes and good things to eat. I 
loved this new master, and his friends too. By- 
and-by he saw how I longed for my own land 
and my people, so he sent me back. Yes! I love 
white people now. I will help them if they 
come here.” 

White Bird, from her corner, could see that 
the scowl had left her father’s face. He seemed 
to be thinking of what Squanto had said. For 
a long time there was no sound in the lodge, ex- 
cept the crackling of the burning wood in the 
fireplace. It was getting low, and Red Deer, 
noticing it, got up and laid on more sticks. As 
they kindled, the bright blaze leaped up and 
lighted the faces of the men. As White Bird 


38 


White Bird 


looked, she thought what a noble face her father 
had. Almost as noble as that of the good chief 
Massasoit, she said to herself. 

Then, as Squanto began to speak once more, 
she forgot everything else in listening to him. 
He told of the dress of the white people; of the 
bright colored cloths used in their garments; 
of the queer coverings for their heads when they 
were out of doors; men had one kind and the 
women had another. And when they were all 
dressed, no part of the body could be seen, save 
just the face and hands. But with all the rich 
clothes that they wore they did not make them- 
selves beautiful as did the red men. Why, even 
for a feast or dance they did not paint their 
faces! How would a red man look if he went 
to the council or the Festival of Green Corn 
without a single stripe of paint upon his body? 
No one would care to look at him. 

But the food! There were many strange 
dishes, some of them very sweet. Puddings, 


An Evening With Squanto 39 


the white man called them, and they were not 
eaten until the meats had been disposed of. 

And how oddly the white men ate I In all 
the time that Squanto was among them he could 
not get used to the queer things used to carry 
food to the mouth. As he spoke of them he 
leaned over towards the fireplace and drew the 
picture of a fork in the ashes, while his listeners 
watched him with interest. 

Not once, he told them, did he see an English- 
man cross his legs and squat comfortably on a 
mat. He sat high up on what he called a chair, 
and his legs reached down in front of him to the 
floor. How could a man rest with his body bent- 
like that? ^^Our way much better,” declared 
Squanto. And Grey Eagle nodded his'head’. 

More wonderful things still the red^man told 
of his stay in that strange land across the Big 
Water. He spoke of the trails, so wide that 
many people could walk side by side and not one 
behind another, after the fashion of the red men. 


40 


White Bird 


He told of the places called stores, where men 
handed out bits of shining metal and got in re- 
turn cloth and meat and flour. One must work 
long and hard before one could earn those bits 
of metal, however. 

^^Are they to the Englishman as wampum to 
the red man?” asked Grey Eagle. And Squanto 
answered ^^Ugh,” for ‘^yes.” 

Then he added, ^‘But they are not beautiful 
like our precious wampum.” 

The night was growing late, and White Bird’s 
grandmother was already nodding her head. 

^‘Let us sleep,” said Two Bears. 

His wife got up and spread out the mats on 
which the family would rest during the night. 
She pointed out a place on one of them for 
Squanto. A few minutes afterwards every one 
in the wigwam was stretched out for the night, 
and a sound like a sleepy chant filled the air. 
Grey Eagle and his family were singing them- 
selves to sleep. 


CHAPTER III 
STRANGERS ON THE SHORE 

W HITE BIRD’S mother had roasted 
some maize, and her little daughter 
was busy pounding it into meal on a 
big flat rock near the lodge. In the midst of her 
work, Red Deer appeared. He must have run 
many miles without stopping, for his breath 
came quick and short. 

^‘Great news,” said he, as his mother, squat- 
ting in the sunshine, looked up from the mat she 
was weaving. 

^^Great news,” he repeated. White Bird laid 
down the stone she had been using as a pestle. 

At these words, his mother dropped the mat 
and the old grandmother hobbled out of the 
wigwam. Both were eager to hear what Red 
Deer had to tell. 

‘T paddled a long way down the stream look- 

41 


42 


White Bird 


ing for ducks,” he went on. ‘‘I saw a flock fly- 
ing southward. I was not far from the lodge 
of the good Massasoit when I met his son 
Pometawam, who told me what happened but 
a few days ago. 

‘^He said, The white men have been here 
again and not far away, for it was among the 
Nausets, who will kill those white men if they 
can.” 

‘^Ugh!” the old grandmother muttered. 
“Great harm came to our people at Patuxet be- 
cause they treated the white men badly. Yes, 
death came to one and all.” 

“But the Nausets cannot forget that many of 
their tribe were carried off by white men. It 
was when they took Squanto. And not one of 
them came back, not one,” said Red Deer. 

The old woman said no more, while the boy 
went on with the story. 

“Five or six of the Nauset braves were walk- 
ing on the shore. Looking ahead, they noticed 
that other men were coming toward them. 


Strangers on the Shore 


43 


When they were still a great way off they saw 
that these others were strangers. Their dress, 
their head covering, their arms, the way of their 
walking, all told this. 

^‘The hearts of the Nausets were filled with 
anger. ‘White men again!’ they said to each 
other. ‘No longer is our land free and happy. 
Do the white men seek more slaves from among 
our people? We will hide. They shall not 
find us.’ Even as they spoke they saw that the 
white men had discovered them and they fled 
into the woods, but the strangers followed. 

“On ran the red men, silently, softly, quickly. 
And still the strangers followed. A big com- 
pany they were, fifteen, sixteen, but they could 
not travel with the speed of the red men. They 
were dressed heavily and they carried big fire- 
weapons, the kind that make a sound of thunder 
and bring terror to the hearts of the red people. 
When they had run far through the woods they 
gave up the chase, for the night was coming on. 
Then one of the Nausets, climbing a hill, saw 


44 


White Bird 


them stop in the open. There they laid down 
their weapons. They gathered wood and built 
a fire. They stretched themselves before it to 
sleep — but not all. Some of them, still holding 
the fire weapons, marched back and forth. 
They watched lest the red men should come 
upon them in the night. 

‘^All through the hours of darkness the Nau- 
sets watched, too. Not once did they sleep. 

‘‘When morning came, the white men started 
out again after the Nausets. In and out among 
the trees of the forest they traveled. Often 
their clothes caught on vines and brush, and 
each time they had to stop. The Nausets, whom 
they were chasing, kept so near to the white men 
that they knew what they were doing all the 
time. But the Nausets moved so softly that the 
strangers did not hear them. 

“Up hill and down they went, through valleys 
where the deer love to feed, across fields where 
grow the strawberry vines and the wild grapes. 
Then they came back to the shore again. The 


Strangers on the Shore 


45 


Nausets, squatting behind the tree trunks, saw 
them stop and look out to sea. There, out on 
the water, was the big canoe which had brought 
these strangers from far away. 

“And now they made their way into a valley 
where the Nausets had buried their friends. 
They stopped before the grave of one of the 
braves. They lifted the mat which covered it 
and began to dig away the mound of sand.” 

At these words the two women scowled and 
White Bird’s eyes opened wide in astonishment. 

“The Nausets would have attacked them, but 
they dared not. Five, against that great com- 
pany with those fearful weapons that carry 
death? No, they dared not. 

“The white men dug till they came to the bow 
and arrow which had been buried with the 
brave. After looking at them they talked to- 
gether. Then they put the weapons back and 
piled the sand back in its place.” 

“Good,” muttered the boy’s grandmother, 
who had stopped scowling. ^ They acted not 


46 


White Bird 


like enemies. They would not dishonor the 
dead of the red men.” 

“But now hear me.” 

Red Deer showed more excitement than his 
people think is wise. His mother looked at 
him, as much as to say, “Be calm, my son,” and 
he began to speak more quietly. 

“They now left the graves, and going on, they 
came to the fields where the dry stalks of corn 
had been left standing after the gathering of the 
harvest. Past these they went; then they 
stopped suddenly as they reached the mounds 
of sand beneath which the grain had been stored. 
Many words they spoke now in their strange 
tongue. Then they went busily to work. They 
dug until they came to the mat which covered 
the store of grain. 

“Lifting it, they found two baskets filled with 
corn, one larger than the other. It held many 
ears. Red, yellow, and blue were the kernels. 
It must have pleased the men, for when they 
had lifted up a basket heavy with the weight of 


Strangers on the Shore 


47 


many ears, they held one after another up 
into the sunlight. They looked often at the 
basket, too, and traced the pattern of the weav- 
ing with their fingers.” 

‘T weave as beautiful baskets as any squaw of 
the Nausets,” Red Deer’s mother said, and the 
old grandmother nodded her head. 

‘What did the strangers do with the corn?” 
asked White Bird. “Did they put it back into 
its place?” 

“No,” answered her brother. “They talked 
much together, and nodded to each other from 
under their queer high head coverings. Then 
they made a load of all the corn they could 
carry, and went back towards the shore. 

“The night was coming, wet and black. 
They reached the edge of a pond, where they 
stopped and built a fire. Then all but three 
stretched themselves out to sleep. These three 
walked up and down with their weapons in their 
hands. The Nausets, who were still watching, 
had no chance to surprise and attack them in all 


48 


White Bird 


the hours of the night. The morning came at 
last, and the white men started out once more, 
keeping to the shore of the pond and not enter- 
ing the woods again.” 

“What were they seeking now?” asked Red 
Deer’s mother. 

“Perhaps they had lost their way and were 
looking for a trail which would lead them to 
the ocean,” suggested the old grandmother. 

“It may be, but now you shall hear what hap- 
pened. They reached a trap set for deer. A 
young tree had been bent over with stout cords 
of hemp, and acorns were scattered beneath it 
to tempt the deer. The white men saw the trap, 
and stopped to look at it, when ugh I one of them 
stepped without care. Up he flew, caught fast 
by the leg. High in the air he swung while his 
friends gathered round. 

“The Nausets were much pleased. They 
wished more traps had been set, one for every 
white man who had stopped on their shore. 
‘Then we would have been glad at such a good 


Strangers on the Shore 


49 


way of bringing the stay of the strangers to an 
end,’ they said to each other.” 

‘‘If the white men come here we will not be 
like the Nausets,” remarked the old grand- 
mother. “We will welcome them. We want 
no more terrible sickness like that which came to 
Patuxet. But what did the white men do after 
they freed their friend from the trap?” 

“They sought the shore once more and made 
their way out on the point which reaches far into 
the sea. There they shot off their weapons, and 
such a terrible noise as they madel It was like 
the roar of heavy thunder. The knees of the 
Nausets shook together, so they said afterwards. 

“It must have been for a sign to their friends 
in the big canoe, for they let down a smaller 
canoe over the side. Then men got into it and 
turned it towards the place on the shore where 
the other white men stood waiting. A little 
time more, and all the strangers had left the land 
of the Nausets.” 

“Mother, do you think they will come again? 


50 


White Bird 


I wish I might look upon the strange white 
men,” said White Bird, as her brother ran off 
towards the woods. 

‘‘I do not know, but I believe it,” was the an- 
swer. ‘^They have been near us many times al- 
ready. Samoset, before he came to live here, 
saw them often on the shores to the north of us. 
They sought fish and furs from the red men and 
they traded for many beautiful things such as 
you and I never looked upon.” 


CHAPTER IV 

THE LONG AGO 

4 4 RANDMOTHER, tell me stories 
^ T of the long ago.” 

White Bird had squatted close to 
the old woman’s side and was now looking up at 
her with pleading eyes. For a minute or two 
there was no answer, but the child felt a rough, 
wrinkled hand smoothing her hair. She loved 
this old grandmother, for she knew, though the 
face might look hard to others, that a kind and 
loving heart dwelt in the bent old body. The 
sun was fast sinking in a bed of fleecy clouds, 
and the air was filled with the chill of snow. 

“The winter is at hand,” said the woman at 
last, “the long, cold winter,” and with a shrug 
of her shoulders she drew the deer-skin cape 
about hen Then she went on; 

51 


52 


White Bird 


story — yes, you shall have a story, but first 
let us go inside; there the fire is still burning.” 

White Bird’s father had gone to a council, 
and her mother was at a neighboring wigwam 
chatting with her women friends. Red Deer 
was playing games with some other boys, and the 
two were now quite alone. The little girl fol- 
lowed her grandmother into the wigwam, but 
did not draw down the mat which served as a 
door. It was pleasanter to look out at the sky 
and watch the stars, as they came out one after 
another. 

“Grandmother, see, they are laughing at us 
to-night. They must be very happy up there,” 
said the child, as she pointed towards them. 

“Yes, very happy — no cold there, no hunger,” 
was the answer. “The stars are good and wise 
spirits. They shine down upon us in their love. 
But the story, my child? Shall it be about the 
wonderful deeds of Glooskap, or the first com- 
ing of the white men?” 

“Both, grandmother,” begged White Bird, 


The Long Ago 


53 


“Ugh, Ugh, we shall see,” said the old 
woman. Her voice sounded so harsh that it 
might have scared a white child, but the little 
grandchild felt only the love hidden in it, — it 
was deep down, but it was there. 

Now this is the story to which White Bird 
listened as the stars came out in such numbers 
that the sky was like a vast field of daisies, only 
the stars shone and smiled and twinkled mer- 
rily, while daisies cannot smile, though they nod 
gently as the breeze passes over them. At least, 
that is what White Bird thought as she looked 
out through the low doorway and listened to 
her grandmother’s words. 

There was once a great magician called 
Glooskap. It was in the long ago, before the 
time of any of the red men living to-day. Yes, 
— it was before there were any red men what- 
ever. Where Glooskap came from, no one 
knows. But one day he appeared on these very 
shores where White Bird lived with her parents. 
And looking around him he said, “There must 


54 


White Bird 


^ be men upon this earth. And they shall be mas- 
ters of all that is here.” 

First, however, Glooskap made dwarfs, the 
tiny creatures who dwell in the rocks and the 
trees. Then came his great work, — the red 
man, to whom he was ever afterward a friend. 
This, however, was only if the man was good. 
Then he was always ready to save him from 
harm and to protect him from the wiles of other 
magicians. 

“Whoever comes to me shall have his wish.” 
Thus said the great and wise Glosskap. “But 
woe to him who is bad. Then his wish shall 
do him more harm than good.” 

Now there was an old man who had three 
sons and one daughter. They lived in the coun- 
try to the north of White Bird’s home. They 
were all magicians, every one of them, — the 
father, the three sons, and the one daughter. 
They were giants, too, and they ate everyone who 
came in their way. 

Glooskap had once lived with these giants. 


The Long Ago 


55 


but that was in the time when he was young 
and they were good. Now that he heard of all 
the wicked things that they were doing, he said 
to himself, “I will pay the magicians a visit, 
and I will punish them for their wicked deeds.” 

Of course he must not let them know who 
he was. For this reason he changed himself so 
that he looked exactly like the old man, who had 
only one eye, while the hair on one side of his 
head was grey. 

Than he appeared at the house and, entering, 
sat down to talk with the father giant. As the 
sons listened, they said to each other, ‘This 
visitor is a magician like ourselves, and we will 
kill him.” 

But the visitor was so like their father that 
they did not know one from the other. If they 
were not careful, they would destroy their own 
father instead of the visitor. 

“However, we will yet get the better of him,” 
they said among themselves. 

At the bidding of her brothers, the sister 


56 


White Bird 


giant took the tail of a whale and cooked it. 
When it was quite tender, she took it from the 
pot and offered it to Glooskap. At this, her 
elder brother reached up and snatched the meat 
away from him, saying, “That is too good for 
a beggar like you.’’ 

You can see from this that he was trying to 
pick a quarrel with his visitor. But the great 
Glooskap answered very calmly, “What is given 
to me is mine, and I will have it. I will there- 
fore take it.” 

Then, without moving or trying to snatch the 
meat back, he simply wished. And lo! the 
meat left the bad giant’s hand and came back 
to him. 

Again the bad giants talked together and 
planned how they might yet get the better of 
their visitor. They waited till he had finished 
eating. Then the eldest brother picked up the 
jaw bone of a whale. It was big and strong; 
yet, using all his strength, he succeeded in bend- 
ing it just a little. 


The Long Ago 


57 


Glooskap watched him, untroubled. He 
could certainly beat him at this feat. So, when 
the magician handed the jaw^ bone to him, he 
held it between his thumb and fingers. Press- 
ing it between them, he broke it into two pieces. 

Once more the giants talked together. ^‘He 
is very great,” they all agreed, yet they still felt 
sure that they could beat him. So they made 
a new plan. 

They took an immense pipe and poured some 
tobacco into it. Each one of them in turn took 
a long pull, drew in the smoke, and then blew 
it out through the nostrils. Thereupon Gloos- 
kap took the pipe and filled it with strong 
tobacco to the very brim. 

Then he lighted it, and took such a long pull 
that all the tobacco was burnt to ashes. And 
he drew in the smoke, every bit of it, and blew 
it out through his nose. 

‘Well, he has beaten us at that,” the magicians 
said to each other, “but we will yet get the bet- 
ter of him.” 


58 


White Bird 


Then they turned towards Glooskap and said, 
“Come, let us play ball together.” 

Quite willingly he followed the giants out to 
a sandy plain by the side of a river. Then the 
bad brothers threw the ball, which they had 
brought down, upon the ground, and what do 
you suppose it was? A horrible skull! It 
rolled rapidly over the ground towards Gloos- 
kap, and, had he not been a wonderful magician, 
it would have bitten his foot quite off, so fiercely 
did it snap at his heels. 

It could not harm him, however; he only 
laughed, as though the others were trying to 
play some foolish, silly trick. Then he turned, 
and going up to a tree, broke off the very tip of 
a branch. He had chosen this for his ball. He 
then laid it down upon the ground and set it 
rolling. And what, think you, it became? A 
skull, but larger, and more horrible than the 
first one. And it fairly flew over the ground, 
and chased those bad magicians as a lynx chases 
a rabbit. 


The Long Ago 


59 


As Glooskap stood watching, he stamped 
upon the ground, at the same time singing a 
song of magic. And lo! the water of the river 
began to rise. Higher and higher it rose until 
it swept over the sands where the bad giants 
were fleeing before the skull. They were over- 
come by its might and now, changed into fishes 
by the magic song of Glooskap, floated away 
from his sight. Never more would they be able 
to work harm to others. 

‘^Ughl” shuddered White Bird as the old 
woman finished the story. ‘‘Are there any more 
bad magicians to-day, grandmother, or did the 
good Glooskap destroy them all?” 

“We never meet them now, and we may thank 
the good Glooskap for it,” was the answer. 
“But neither does he come among us. When 
the white men first appeared in our land, our 
people thought that they were great beings like 
Glooskap himself.” 

“Oh, tell me about that time, grandmother,” 
begged White Bird. 


6o 


White Bird 


“Listen, then, my child. It was a fair morn- 
ing, and the Great Spirit was speaking to his 
red children through the soft breezes that played 
over the water and the bright sunshine that 
sparkled on the waves. Someone walking on 
the seashore saw a speck far out, — as far as the 
eye could see. 

“Each moment it grew larger, then, as the 
sunlight fell upon it, it seemed no longer a speck, 
but a great white bird with wings spread wide. 
Larger and larger it became, but it sought not 
the air as do the birds. It floated over the 
water, and ever it came nearer and nearer to 
the shore. Sounds came from it like the voices 
of people. 

“And as it came nearer, the watcher on the 
shore saw that it was not a bird, but a canoe, far 
different from any of those of our people. It 
was large and very beautiful, and in it were men 
with white skins, fair hair and blue eyes. And 
when they had landed, they spoke strange 
words that no red man could understand. 


The Long Ago 


6i 


They are gods,’ said our people, and they 
bowed down to them to worship them, bringing 
gifts of all that is precious to us. As the days 
went by they found that these strange beings 
were men like themselves. They quarrelled to- 
gether, and they were sometimes ill. They 
could not be gods, though they were wise in 
ways where the red man is ignorant. 

“Some of them stayed in the land for many 
moons, and there were those among them who 
died, so they could not be gods,” repeated the 
old woman shaking her head. 

“All this happened in the long ago,” she con- 
tinued, “but since those days the white men have 
come many times. But they did not stay, and 
so I have never yet seen one of their people.” 

“No, nor I,” sighed White Bird. “But, 
grandmother,” she whispered, “would you like 
to be as they are, the color of the snow?” 

“No, my child. The Great Spirit made me, 
and I am glad. Soon I shall go to the land of 
the Blessed, where I shall still be a red woman 


62 


White Bird 


and follow the ways of my people. There will 
be no sickness there, nor pain. The Great 
Spirit is good. But, my child, the night goes 
fast. See where the moon is in the heavens.” 

She got up and, standing in the doorway, 
pointed with her old withered finger towards 
the sky. 

“Go to your mat, little White Bird, and seek 
the sleep which the Great Spirit gives to all his 
children.” 

A few minutes afterwards White Bird was 
stretched out in her corner, singing softly to her- 
self, yet her eyes would not become heavy. 
Two thoughts kept knocking at the door of her 
mind. One was of Glooskap, the great and 
good magician, the granter of wishes. With 
this thought was the wish that white people 
might come into the land to dwell, and that 
among them here should be a little child like 
herself,— yes, and that that child should be like 
a sister to her. Would the good Glooskap, in 
his great love for the red people, grant such a 


The Long Ago 


63 


wish? The second thought was this. Was she 
sure that it was a good wish, that it would do 
no harm to her people? Yes, she was very 


sure. 


CHAPTER V 

THE FIGHT 

W HITE BIRD’S mother was busy put- 
ting the wigwam in order. The little 
girl helped her as she sorted out the 
baskets of different sizes, the pots in which she 
boiled fish, the wooden bowls and spoons, and 
the bundles of flags and bulrushes out of which 
mats were to be woven in the winter. 

One of the baskets was filled with tobacco, 
and another with acorns. A third held some 
dried herring, and a fourth, powdered maize, 
ready to be made into cakes. 

“Wash the bowls and spoons, little White 
Bird,” said her mother, and the little girl, 
throwing a deer-skin cape over her shoulders, 
gathered up the dishes and ran barefooted down 
to the brook near the house. It was a sharp 
morning, and the water was coated with ice 
64 


The Fight 


65 


which had to be broken through before the 
dishes could be washed. The work done, 
White Bird was on her way back to the lodge 
when Red Deer overtook her. 

‘‘More news!” he said. “White men again 
in the land of the Nausets! Yes, and their 
squaws and papooses with them!” 

White Bird was so excited at the news that 
she dropped one of the bowls. Had Glooskap 
already begun to grant her wish? Squaws and 
papooses! Up to this time only the men of the 
white people had landed on the shore, and now 
there were not only squaws, but papooses. 

But the little girl said nothing, and waited 
for her brother’s next words. 

“They brought with them great bundles of 
clothing, and kettles and wooden bowls, but not 
like these,” he went on, pointing to his sister’s 
load. 

“Big, very big they were,” and the boy 
reached out his arms in a wide circle. “The 
men made fires on the beach, and the papooses 


66 


White Bird 


helped in bringing in the wood. Water was 
heated in kettles hung over the fire, and then 
the men poured it into tubs. The women began 
to wash, while the men moved up and down near 
them with fire-weapons in their hands. 

The Nausets watched them from far off. 
They wished to set upon the strangers, but did 
not dare. The white men were too many, and 
besides, the ugly fire-weapons were ready in 
their hands.” 

“But the papooses, what did they do, while 
the squaws washed? ” asked White Bird. 

“They played about and talked and laughed, 
but they stayed most of the time near the squaws. 
They seemed afraid, looking often towards the 
woods. They must have been thinking of the 
Nausets who were watching them, though they 
did not know it. 

“After the washing was done, the clothing 
was stretched out on the bushes. When it was 
dry it was made up into bundles, and everyone 
went back again to the big canoe.” 


The Fight 


67 


By this time White Bird and her brother had 
reached the lodge, where they found their father 
busy with two visitors. One was Squanto, who 
had lately spent the night with them. The 
other was Samoset, a tall, straight man, very 
handsome, so White Bird and her brother 
thought. Not long ago he had come from the 
land to the north. There he had had dealings 
with white men, who anchored their vessels off 
the shore while they traded with the Indians for 
fish and furs. Samoset was very proud be- 
cause he could speak a little of the language of 
the white men, though not so much as Squanto. 

“A grampus?” asked Two Bears, just as the 
children entered. 

“Yes, a large one,” answered Samoset. “It 
lay dead on the shore where the storm had 
thrown it up. The layers of fat upon it were 
thick, and the Nausets were busy trying to cut 
it off when one of them happened to look up. 
There, not far off on the water, he saw a boat. 
Jt was not a large one, but it was filled with 


68 


White Bird 


white men and it was coming towards the 
shore.” 

A grampus is about half as large as a whale, 
and the fat can be tried out for the oil, which 
White Bird’s people valued very highly. 

‘The Nausets did not like to leave the gram- 
pus,” continued Samoset, “so they worked fast, 
cutting and carrying the fat away. But all the 
time the white men were drawing nearer. So 
much did the Nausets hurry, that many a strip 
that had been cut from the grampus was 
dropped on the sands as they carried it home- 
ward; but they did not dare to stop to pick one 
of them up.” 

“ ‘Stay no longer,’ at last said one of them, 
‘See! the white men will soon reach the 
shore.’ 

“Then they went into the woods and hid. 
But they did not go so far that they could not 
watch the white men. The boat came up to the 
shore where the dead grampus was lying, and 
the strangers landed. They walked along the 


The Fight 


69 


shore until they came to the footprints of the 
Nausets. These they followed even till they 
led into the woods. And still they followed the 
Nausets. 

“They passed the place where the Nausets 
bury their dead; they stopped and entered wig- 
wams from which the people had moved away 
not long since. They dug up stores of acorns, 
but they put them all back again. So softly 
did the Nausets move, that they kept themselves 
hidden all the time, though they were not far 
away. 

“The night was drawing near. The white 
men turned about and once more sought the 
shore. And still the Nausets followed, creep- 
ing behind them like sly foxes. They came at 
last to the water side, and, building a great fire, 
most of them lay down to sleep. But some 
watched all the time, and the Nausets did not 
like this. 

“When the night was half spent, the Nausets, 
who were themselves watching, said to each 


70 


White Bird 


other, We will speak to them with a sound that 
will strike terror to their hearts.’ 

^‘Then they raised a cry. Fierce and ter- 
rible it was. It told of the anger of the Nausets. 
It rang out far and long through the night air, 
and warned the white people to leave the land 
of the red men. They answered the cry with 
the thunder noise of their weapons. Twice 
they spoke with them. After that all was still 
till the early morning. 

“Then the listening Nausets once more heard 
the thunder sound of the weapons. They drew 
nearer. They watched. Ugh! The white 
men laid down their weapons in a great pile. 
The outer garments, all made of metal chains, 
which they had worn about them the day be- 
fore and through which arrows cannot pass, — 
these they laid down also. 

“Now was the time for which the Nausets 
had been looking. They rushed out of the 
woods, sending their arrows thick and fast like 
a shower among the white men, and at the same 


The Fight 


71 


time they gave their fierce and terrible war 
cry. 

“ Woach, woach, ha, ha, ha, woach!’ was this 
cry. 

“The white men shouted, ‘Indians, Indians,’ 
as the arrows came flying among them. 

“Some rushed toward the pile of weapons 
which they had laid down on the pile of sand 
and seized them in haste. But their chief — he 
was a little man — had his own weapon ready, 
and he shot it at the Nausets. Also three other 
white men who had their weapons ready shot at 
the Indians; but the iron balls they sent forth 
did no harm, for the Nausets were hidden be- 
hind the trees. 

“Again they cried with a long and terrible 
cry, ‘Woach, woach, ha, ha, hach, woah!’ and 
again the arrows flew among the white men like 
a great flock of birds. 

“But by this time all had seized their weapons 
and the iron balls came flying about the Nausets. 
They did not flee, however, until one of the bul- 


72 


White Bird 


lets struck the arm of a brave sachem, Big Wolf. 
The blood poured forth, and with a great cry 
he fled into the woods and his followers after 
him. The white men followed for a time, 
shouting and sending more iron balls from their 
weapons. 

“Then they turned back to the place where 
their boat was fastened on the shore and got into 
it and were soon moving far away.” 

Two Bears had listened to the story very 
quietly, yet he scowled from time to time. 
When Samoset had finished, he spoke very 
slowly. 

“The Nausets are foolish,” he said. “The 
white men know magic and they are very power- 
ful. It is best to be friends with them, not 
enemies.” 

Both Samoset and Squanto nodded their 
heads. 

“The white men are wise,” said Squanto, 
speaking for the first time. “I like them, for 


The Fight 


73 


they are my friends, and if they come here I 
will help them.” 

“I, too, will be a friend,” said Two Bears. 

“And I,” said Samoset. 

White Bird, who had listened closely to all 
that had been said, sighed with gladness at 
these words. She was thinking of the white 
papooses. If they came, it would grieve her if 
harm fell upon them, for one was to be as a 
sister to her. Yes, poor ignorant little red child, 
she believed that Glooskap, the great magician, 
had somehow heard her wish and would grant 
it. 


CHAPTER VI 

THE COMING OF BRIGHT STAR 

I T was a stormy night. The mats which 
covered the wigwam flapped up and down 
as the wind blew in great gusts. How it 
howded! From the distance came other howls, 
more dismal still, for the wolves were abroad. 
White Bird shuddered as she lay listening, for 
she could not sleep. For three days the storm 
had raged and the little girl had had no exer- 
cise out-of-doors, which made her restless. 

She began to repeat to herself her favorite 
stories. There was one about a star, which she 
loved dearly. It was the story of a little red 
boy who was fond of looking into the evening 
sky and watching the stars as they peeped forth 
into the night. There was one star in particular 
which he watched for, and by-and-by he began 
to think of this as his own star. 

74 


The Coming of Bright Star 75 


When he was lonely and sad, as sometimes 
happened, his heart leaped up once more in de- 
light as he beheld his star shining and twinkling 
merrily over his head. 

^‘My Star Beautiful,’’ he called it. 

Years passed by and he was no longer a child, 
but a young brave. Still he looked for his Star 
Beautiful in the heavens and was made happier 
by the sight of it. Trouble came, and he was 
sometimes in doubt as to what he should do. 
Then, waiting till the twilight had fallen, he 
looked up into the heavens, and, when his star 
appeared, it seemed as though his path was 
clear again and wisdom entered his mind. 

All his life the star guided him, and when the 
time came for the Great Spirit to take him from 
this earth, he felt that his Star Beautiful was 
calling him, and he was glad in his heart. At 
the thought of the Star Beautiful, White Bird’s 
eyes began to grow heavy. The great Chief 
Sleep had drawn near and was beckoning her to 
follow him to his kingdom. 


76 


White Bird 


That night, while she was still in the realm of 
Sleep, she had a beautiful dream. It seemed to 
White Bird that she was standing upon the shore 
of the ocean and looking over towards the east. 
It was evening, and the sky was lighted with 
numberless stars, which, shining brightly, were 
reflected in the calm waters below. 

Then, far over in the east, a new star appeared, 
not large, but of great brightness and beauty. 
It did not remain where the child first saw it, 
however, but began to move. Higher and 
higher in the heavens it rose until it reached a 
spot in the heavens directly over White Bird’s 
head. There it stopped. And then it seemed 
to the child that its light, as it fell upon her, 
wrapped her round about, filling her with great 
happiness. 

In the midst of her delight she became aware 
that her brother was speaking. 

^‘White Bird, White Bird, wake up,” he was 
saying. “The storm has passed. The sun is 
greeting the children of the earth.” 


The Coming of Bright Star 77 


Yet still the little girl clung to her dream. 
She did not wish to let it go. It was too de- 
lightful. But Red Deer persisted. 

“I shall go to the streams to fish,” he said. “I 
shall use the hooks that you saw me making 
yesterday. Wake up and you shall go with 
me.” 

By this time the kingdom of Chief Sleep had 
vanished, and with it the dream which had 
brought such happiness. Half an hour later. 
White Bird, filled with pride that her brother 
should want her to go with him, was running be- 
^ hind him along the trail that led to Patuxet, the 
deserted village. 

“Many brooks there,” Red Deer had said. 
“They will be full now after the big rain, and 
the fish will be thick in the waters. You shall 
fill your baskets from my catch.” 

The boy carried two poles. One had a sharp 
wooden spear fastened to the end, and the other, 
a hook. Other hooks were fastened to his belt 
§0 that he might have some if he needed them. 


78 


White Bird 


The best fun was always in spearing the fish, as 
they swam near the edge of the stream. The 
boy had often stood on the banks of a stream, 
watchful and quiet, waiting till a big, fat fish 
should come swimming along, unconscious of 
danger. Then, of a sudden, down the spear 
would dart, and fasten itself in the body of the 
fish. There was no escape. 

The children did not come to a full stop till 
they reached a stream just below the deserted 
village. 

“Good place here, and plenty of fish,’’ Red 
Deer said, as he stood looking into the water. 
“See, they are coming in from the sea. Many, 
many fish there are, too. Be still now. White 
Bird.” 

For an hour or so the little girl watched her 
brother while he lifted one shining fish after 
another upon the bank. These she killed and 
cleaned and put into her baskets, which were 
soon full. But Red Deer was not satisfied. 
Though he had caught all that could be carried 


The Coming of Bright Star 79 


home, he wished to keep on for the pleasure of 
fishing. 

“He does not need me any longer,” thought 
White Bird. “I will go up to the top of the hill 
and lie in the sunlight.” 

The little girl had not forgotten her dream of 
the night before. She wished for a chance to 
think about it alone, by herself. 

“The Great Spirit loves his children to-day,” 
she thought, as she looked out to sea. The water 
was calm and beautiful, and the sunbeams were 
having great sport, chasing each other over the 
waves. Here and there a white cap still showed 
itself, but it was a merry little imp, not like the 
big fierce ones of yesterday, which strove to de- 
vour one another as the wicked green waves 
rolled over the surface of the ocean. 

But the dream I What was the meaning of 
the small, bright star that came out of the east, 
and stationed itself over White Bird’s head? 
Had it — Oh, could it have anything to do with 
the red child’s wish for a white sister? She 


8o 


White Bird 


knew that whenever the white men visited her 
land, they came sailing out of the east, and that 
their home lay in that direction. The dreams 
which the Great Spirit sent to his children were 
always full of meaning, though they could not 
always understand them. 

Now there was her own name, — ^White Bird. 
The night before she was born her grandmother 
had had a dream, the meaning of which was 
very clear. Often had the child’s mother told 
her about it, but always in low tones, almost in 
a whisper, for she held the dream as sacred. 

The old woman seemed to be standing in the 
doorway of the wigwam, looking up toward the 
sky. But there was nothing to be seen save one 
fleecy cloud. Even as she looked the cloud 
seemed to change its form, and it became like a 
great white bird with wings outspread. Then 
the bird began to move. It left the heavens and 
flew down, down, down, till it lighted on the 
shoulder of the woman for a minute, then, still 
in the shape of a bird, it passed softly by her 


The Coming of Bright Star 8i 


and made its way through the low doorway of 
the wigwam. She turned and followed it with 
her eyes, watching it while it lighted on the 
beautiful embroidered baby frame that was 
hanging on the wall, and never as yet put to any 
use. All Indian babies are kept in such frames 
instead of in cradles, when their mothers are 
not holding them. 

Was it strange, therefore, when the little 
granddaughter was born the very next day that 
the old woman said, ‘The child must be called 
White Bird?” No other name could possibly 
be given her. 

As the little girl squatted in the sunlight, 
thinking of her own dream and of her grand- 
mother’s, she suddenly became aware of some- 
thing moving out upon the water. It was, — 
yes, it was, — one of the white men’s big canoes ; 
a ship was the name they gave it, so Squanto and 
Samoset had said. 

If she had been watching, she might have 
seen it before. Every moment it moved nearer. 


82 


White Bird 


Why, she could see people moving about on it 
now! She sprang up and ran down the hill. 
Over the stubble her little feet flew till she 
reached the stream where her brother was still 
fishing. 

^‘Red Deer! Red Deer!” she called. ^The 
white men come.” 

The boy dropped his pole in his excitement, 
for red children sometimes forget to be calm, 
notwithstanding the numerous lessons of their 
parents. His sister had already started back to- 
wards the hill, and he followed her till she had 
reached the summit. 

‘‘Lie low,” the boy commanded, as soon as he 
had caught sight of the ship. “White Bird, 
we will watch, but they must not see us.” 

The two children flattened themselves out on 
the ground and, with their heads lifted slightly, 
strained their eyes towards the ship, now lying 
at anchor near the shore. It was the May- 
flower upon which these children were looking 
for the first time, and the people whom it bore 


The Coming of Bright Star 83 


were the Pilgrims, seeking a new home for 
themselves among the red men. They had ex- 
plored the coast farther south among the Nau- 
sets, but were not satisfied, and now they had 
entered the bay which stretched along the shore 
of the deserted village. 

Red Deer and his sister watched, almost 
breathless, as a smaller boat was lowered over 
the ship’s side, and filled with people. Then 
came the sound of oars as the boat began to move 
in towards the shore. There were not only men, 
but women and little children in this boat, and 
they were white! The voices of these people 
could now be heard, but they were soft and low, 
far different from those of the red men. 

The boat grounded on the sands, and one per- 
son after another sprang out upon a rock and 
ran up on to the land. How gladly they seemed 
to leave the boat! Many of them looked sick, 
and though Red Deer and his sister could not 
know this, they were much paler than they 
should be, for they were now free for the first 


84 


White Bird 


time after having been shut up in the cabin of 
the Mayflower for many weeks. 

Yes, — these were the Pilgrim Fathers with 
their wives and little children. 

“Look! see the dress of the white men,” 
whispered Red Deer. “And notice what they 
wear on their heads — strange, very strange.” 

But White Bird’s thoughts were with the 
children. One there was, a little girl, whom 
she followed every minute with her eyes. The 
child’s hair was yellow, the color of the sun- 
beams. But it did not hang loosely over her 
shoulders the way that White Bird’s did. It 
was braided neatly, and reached straight down 
her back beneath a close-fitting white cap. She, 
as well as the other little girls, wore a skirt 
that reached to her ankles, and a wide cape hung 
over her shoulders. 

Indeed, her dress was almost exactly like that 
of the women of the party. As White Bird lay 
there watching, her heart beat so loud that she 
was afraid Red Deer would hear it thumping 


The Coming of Bright Star 85 


against her sides. is the little white sister 
that I have asked for, she thought. Again 
the dream of the night before came into her 
mind. 

^^She is the bright star that has come to me out 
of the east,” she said to herself. ‘‘Henceforth I 
will think of her by that name only, — Bright 
Star. And I, White Bird, will fly to help her 
if ever she is in need.” 

Hour after hour went by while Red Deer 
and his sister watched from the summit of the 
hill. Had these white people come to stay? 
It seemed so, for the men went straight to work, 
cutting down trees and splitting up the trunks. 
They marked off places on the cleared land, 
where they began to set up the logs that they had 
cut. 

Squanto had spoken much about the homes of 
the white men. Firm and strong they were, 
and made of heavy wood, — not a single mat was 
used in the whole covering. Yes, these stran- 
gers were preparing to build such homes upon 


86 


White Bird 


the very ground where the deserted village had 
once stood. 

The squaws and papooses were busy too. 
They kindled fires over which they hung big 
kettles. Steam soon began to rise from them. 
The squaws were cooking dinner for the whole 
company. 

“See, the Chief 1” whispered Red Deer, as he 
pointed to a small man covered with chain 
armor, who carried a gun and had a sword at 
his side. It was the brave Captain Miles 
Standish, who marched up and down, on the 
lookout for a possible attack from Indians. 

“The other men carry fire-weapons, too,” Red 
Deer added. “But there is no need; our peo- 
ple will be brothers to them.” 

White Bird scarcely heard any of her 
brother’s words, for she was very busy watching 
the little white girls as they trudged about at 
their mothers’ sides. They looked prim and 
old. How could they run with those long 
skirts and the hard, stiff coverings on their feet? 


The Coming of Bright Star 87 


White Bird decided that it must be impossible, 
and she pitied them. 

One of these was to be the little white sister 
who had come to her from the east. They were 
still so far away that she could not see their 
faces very clearly, but she watched most closely 
the little girl with the long golden hair, the one 
whom she had called Bright Star. 

As she watched. White Bird longed to leave 
her hiding place and go to this little girl. If 
she could only look into her eyes! If she could 
but stretch out her arms to her in love! But no, 
she must wait in patience. ^ 

^They are going to stay. I am quite sure of 
it,” the little girl said to herself. “I shall yet 
meet my Bright Star. The time will come 
when I, White Bird, can fly to her side.” 

The shadows of the short winter day had be- 
gun to fall before the Pilgrims left their work 
and went back to the ship. Then, and not till 
then, did Red Deer and his sister start for home. 
But what a story there would be to tell! Had 


88 


White Bird 


any others of their people seen- the coming of 
the white men? Would they be kind to them if 
they made their home here? Yes, Red Deer 
and his sister were sure of it. 

^‘Squanto is a nice man. He learned great 
things from the white people while he lived in 
their land. I, too, will learn now,” Red Deer 
said to himself as he hurried along. 

And White Bird was asking herself how long 
she should now have to wait before she should 
meet and know the white child who was to be 
her own little Bright Star. 

Two Bears, who had been hunting all day, 
reached home before his son and daughter. He 
had shot two fine eagles, and the wigwam was 
filled with the odor of the birds as they were 
roasting in the fireplace. Roasted eagle is a 
delicious dish and tastes much like mutton. 
Red Deer and his sister were very fond of it, but 
now they were so busy thinking of the news they 
were bringing that they paid no attention to the 
cry of their empty stomachs. 


The Coming of Bright Star 89 


Red Deer had just begun to speak when 
Squanto appeared. The man’s black eyes were 
shining. He, too, had watched the arrival of 
the white men. They were the same as those 
with whom the Nausets had fought. 

“But they are welcome here,” Two Bears 
said, when he had heard the story. “I know 
that our good Chief Massasoit will be kind to 
them. None of our people wish to live where 
the deserted village is.” 

“No; they remember the words of the white 
man’s warning. They would fear to live there. 
The strangers may make a home on that shore 
without fear of harm,” answered Squanto. 

White Bird sung herself to sleep that night, a 
tired but happy child. Even though the Pil- 
grims had gone back to the ship, she felt sure 
that they would return again and go on with 
the building which they had begun. And on 
the shore but a few miles away they would soon 
be living, — they and their squaws and papooses. 
Joy filled the red child’s heart. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE NEW HOME 

E very pleasant day after this the Pil- 
grims were busy on the Patuxet shore. 
Their axes rang merrily, as one tree after 
another was cut down in the near-by woods, 
while the sound of hammers could be heard 
from morning till night. None of White 
Bird’s people went to Patuxet, however, though 
they watched from the near-by hill tops and 
from behind distant clumps o’f trees. 

They knew when the first big house was fin- 
ished. It was twenty feet long and big enough 
to store all of the provisions and furniture that 
had been brought from across the ocean. The 
Pilgrims slept in it at night while other and 
smaller houses were being built for the different 
families. 

Never before had Red Deer and his sister 
90 


The New Home 


91 


seen anything larger than their own wigwam. 
This rough log house seemed to be a perfect 
giant of a building. 

“How strong it must bel” they thought. 

Little did the white children dream that these 
other people, so different from themselves, were 
watching from a distance, as they ran about in 
the wilderness, helping their fathers and 
mothers to build the fast-growing village. A 
street was soon laid out from the shore straight 
up to the hill from which White Bird had first 
seen the Mayflower sailing into the harbor. 

Besides the big house, the Pilgrims built 
seven other smaller houses, so that a little vil- 
lage was soon standing on the Patuxet shore, to 
which they now gave the name of Plymouth. 

On the top of the hill itself the Pilgrims put 
up a strange-looking object. It was so heavy 
that it took all the strength of several men to 
carry it up from the shore. 

“It is a terrible weapon of death,” Squanto 
told his friends. “The white men call it a can- 


92 


White Bird 


non. When they shoot it the ground trembles 
and the air is filled with thunder.” 

At these words Two Bears shook his head 
wisely. ^‘White men know much of magic. It 
is well to be friends with them,” he said. 

Of course a church was also built, for we all 
know that the Pilgrims were very devout, and 
had sought this new home in order that they 
might be free to worship God in the way they 
thought was best. What was the meaning of 
this church? White Bird and her brother could 
not think. Its shape was different from any of 
the other buildings. No one lived in it, — of 
that they were very sure. 

But one day out of every seven there was no 
sound of saw or hammer in the village. All 
work stopped when the sun went down the 
afternoon before. On the morning of the 
seventh day, the white people formed in a line 
and went to church. 

The men, looking very stern and solemn, 
marched at the head and foot of the line. They 


The New Home 


93 


carried muskets at their sides. The women and 
children had their places in the middle of the 
line. After they had entered the building they 
kept very still. 

White Bird knew this, for once, after she had 
seen the Pilgrim procession pass through the 
doorway, she actually had dared to come within 
a stone’s throw of the building. So near was 
she now to her Bright Star that her heart beat 
fast and hard at the thought. 

Though the good Chief Massasoit had said, 
^‘We will not harm the white people,” he did 
not go to Plymouth to welcome them at once. 
It was not the nature of the red man to hurry 
about such an important matter. Several times, 
however, White Bird heard her father talking 
about the matter with Squanto and Samoset. 

“We will build fires along the shore,” he told 
them. “In this way we will say to the 
strangers, We are friends; you have no need 
to fear.’ ” 

The winter was cold and stormy. Many a 


94 


White Bird 


night White Bird went supperless to bed, for 
game was scarce in the forest. Sometimes, how- 
ever, Two Bears would come home proudly 
showing a deer or wild turkey which he had just 
killed in the forest. 

Then his squaw would hasten to make ready 
a feast, and his friends were called in to share 
in the good time. Squanto came oftenest of all. 
At the sight of him White Bird was always glad, 
for she expected to hear news of Bright Star and 
her people. 

One bitter night the lodge was filled with 
visitors. Samoset was among them and so was 
Squanto. 

“Make the fire big,” Two Bears said to his 
son, and soon the flames were crackling merrily. 
Higher and higher they reached, as though they 
were saying, “Jack Frost, there is no room for 
you here. We do not wish your company. 
Away with you.” 

There was talk that night about the Pilgrims. 

“Little work now,” declared Samoset. “Not 


The New Home 


95 


many men walk along the shore. Only one, 
two, three, I see together. Some sick, some 
die.” 

“Ugh I Ugh!” grunted one listener after an- 
other. 

“The winter very cold. Much snow and 
ice,” remarked Two Bears. “Bad for the white 
people. Not so strong as the red man. Ugh.” 

White Bird was listening closely. “Perhaps 
Bright Star is sick. I have not seen her for 
two moons. One day I watched, long, very 
long, but she did not leave her lodge. Perhaps 
the Great Spirit will make Bright Star die. 
Then I shall never know my white sister.” 

At this thought tears came into the red 
child’s eyes. A wild savage you may call her, 
yet her heart was a tender one, and she was 
ready to love the little daughter of the Pilgrims 
with her long golden hair and pale cheeks. 
White Bird would have felt bad indeed could 
she have known that at that very moment her 
Bright Star was burning with fever and that 


96 


White Bird 


many of her people had already died from the 
hardships they had suffered in their new home. 

“When the warm days come, we will go to 
the white men. You, Squanto and Samose't, 
shall speak to them for us,” said Two Bears, 
when the visitors got up to leave for the night. 

Two Bears was one of the chief braves of 
his tribe. He was a great friend of Massasoit, 
who often asked his advice. So, when White 
Bird heard the words of her father, she felt sure 
that her people would soon make friends with 
the white men. Then, if Bright Star still lived, 
she could yet make friends with her. 


CHAPTER VIII 
THE MEETING WITH, BRIGHT STAR 


W HITE BIRD was sick. Never before 
had she lain on her mat all day long. 
Her head felt strangely hot, and her 
hands seemed to be on fire. She tossed about 
on her mat, and her loving mother came again 
and again to her side to spread out the deer- 
skin covering which she had thrown aside. 

“Water,’’ she kept calling, but no sooner had 
she taken a long, cool drink, than the thirst re- 
turned again, worse than before. Once her 
mother brought her a bit of wild goose which 
had just been roasted, but, when she tasted it, 
it seemed to choke her. 

Sometimes she dreamed, but one dream 
chased after another so fast that her head grew 
tired, very tired. At one moment it seemed 

97 


98 


White Bird 


as though the wild goose she had tasted had come 
to life, and she was flying through the air on 
its back. Then suddenly it shook her off and 
she was falling, falling. As she struck the 
ground she gave a loud cry. 

She opened her eyes and saw her mother and 
grandmother standing beside her with a fright- 
ened look in their eyes. She heard her mother 
say, “The medicine man! We must send for 
him this very night.” Then she began to dream 
again. This time she saw one of the Nauset 
Indians entering the village of the white men. 
It was night, and he was creeping stealthily to- 
wards one of the houses, — it was the one in which 
Bright Star lived. The next moment he was 
running out fast, very fast, and in his hands was 
the scalp of Bright Star. White Bird knew it 
by the long golden hair. 

The dream came to a sudden end as the sick 
child became aware of a terrible noise. It was 
all about her, everywhere. She opened her eyes 
to see a crowd of people around her. The wig- 


The Meeting With Bright Star 99 


warn was filled with them, and the air was 
stifling. 

Close beside her stood the chief medicine 
man of the tribe. He was beating a drum and 
repeating charms. His eyes rolled about in such 
a terrible manner that the sick child turned away 
in fright. Then she knew nothing more for 
many hours, and when she woke up again the 
mat which hung in the doorway was drawn aside 
and the bright sun was shining in upon her. 

‘The Great Spirit is good. He has given me 
back my little White Bird,” said the Indian 
mother softly, as she pushed back the hair from 
the child’s face. 

“Yes, He gave strength to the charms of the 
medicine man,” said the old grandmother sol- 
emnly. 

A week afterwards White Bird was able to 
play out of doors with her little friends. Many 
of the days were warm and pleasant now, and the 
sun was melting the snow from the hillsides. 
At first, the little girl could not run, as she was 


100 


White Bird 


in the habit of doing. Her knees shook, and her 
feet felt heavy. 

“Like big stones on the ends of my legs,” she 
said to herself. 

She thought often of Bright Star. “Was she 
still ill and shut up in one of those wooden lodges 
in the white men’s village?” she often asked her- 
self. Or had the Great Spirit been good and 
made her well? Poor child! Squanto had said 
that there were no medicine men among the 
white people. So it must be harder for her to get 
well than for herself. White Bird. 

Samoset was staying with Two Bears at this 
time. The two men had only the other day been 
hunting near the white men’s village. 

“People there go out doors now,” they had 
said. “They work, they fish, they hunt. The 
papooses play on the shore. The sickness must 
all be gone. We will go to see them very 
soon.” 

One morning about a week after the fever Had 
left White Bird, she woke up feeling well and 


The Meeting With Bright Star loi 


strong. Her feet were no longer heavy, nor 
did her knees knock together when she walked 
about the lodge. Her heart sang a song of 
thanks to the Great Spirit as once more she was 
able to run down to the shore for her daily 
bath. 

‘‘I am going to the woods with Smiling 
Brook,” she told her mother. ^‘We will visit 
the squirrels and we will see if the sun has yet 
called the woodchucks from their winter’s 
sleep.” 

The Indian mother nodded her head and 
smiled. She was glad that White Bird felt well 
enough to go. Smiling Brook was White Bird’s 
playmate. The two children were both born 
under the harvest moon in the very same year. 
Smiling Brook was bigger and stronger than 
White Bird, however. Her black eyes were 
wilder, and were never dreamy like those of her 
little friend. 

Now, White Bird had a plan this bright 
March morning. She meant to go to the Ply- 


102 


White Bird 


mouth woods and look out upon the white men’s 
village. Perhaps she could catch a glimpse of 
Bright Star. But she did not tell Smiling Brook 
of this, for she wished for her company. 'She 
did not like the thought of going alone, for, after 
all, she was not quite as strong as before she was 
sick. 

“Let us go this way,” she said, pointing to the 
trail which led towards Plymouth. 

Smiling Brook, glad to have her little friend’s 
company once more, gladly followed where 
White Bird led. 

There were so many things to notice and en- 
joy, this early spring morning, that the children 
did not hurry. Birds were flying overhead once 
more and singing joyous songs. Saucy chip- 
munks scampered across the path and scolded 
for the very joy of scolding. Insects were crawl- 
ing about in the sunny spots where the snow had 
melted and the ground had softened. 

Yes, and one worm, a big fat one, was actually 
crawling about beneath a heap of dry leaves 


The Meeting With Bright Star 103 


which the children pushed aside. Many times 
the two little girls stopped to listen to the pleas- 
ant sounds of the awakening spring! Some of 
them were so soft that a white person’s ears 
would never have caught them. But these little 
red children, who had been trained from the 
time they were babies to watch for the many 
voices of Nature, could hear them plainly. 

^^Now for a good run. It will make the body 
feel glad and free,” said White Bird after a 
while. 

Smiling Brook led and, being stronger than 
White Bird, was soon far ahead of her. She did 
not stop until she had come so close to the vil- 
lage of Plymouth that she could hear the sounds 
of the workmen in the street. 

Then she came to a sudden stop in a thick 
growth of trees and waited for her friend to 
catch up with her. Just as White Bird had al- 
most reached Smiling Brook, with eyes spar- 
kling and long black hair flying in all directions 
about her face, there was a rustling of the dry 


104 


White Bird 


leaves, and a scared face peered out from behind 
a big tree trunk. 

The eyes were the color of the sky when Na- 
ture is gay and happy. They were the deepest, 
most wonderful blue, so White Bird thought. 
The strings of the white cap had loosened and 
it had fallen back, showing wonderful golden 
hair. But the cheeks of the child, how pale and 
thin they were! 

“Bright Star! Bright Star!” cried White 
Bird, in the language of the red people, at the 
same time springing toward the child. 

With a frightened look, first at White Bird 
and then at Smiling Brook, the child gave a 
loud scream, and rushed headlong past them 
and out into the open space beyond. She did 
not stop nor turn till she was once more in the 
street of her little village. 

Poor White Bird! She flung herself on the 
ground and hid her face in the snow. All 
through the long winter months she had looked 
forward to this meeting with her white sister. 


The Meeting With Bright Star 105 


And now! the sight of her had filled the little 
Pilgrim with terror. White Bird could not un- 
derstand why it was. 

Smiling Brook looked at her in astonishment 
as she lay still and silent. What was the matter 
with White Bird? Why should the sight of the 
little Pilgrim make her feel so bad? She was 
greatly puzzled. On the way home scarcely a 
word was spoken, nor did White Bird stop till 
she came to the side of a little brook in which 
the ice was now broken up by the bright rays of 
the spring sun. 

Bending over the water, she looked long and 
earnestly at the picture which it gave her of her- 
self. She was very different from Bright Star, 
— there was no doubt of that. Her eyes shone 
like the burning logs glowing in the fireplace 
of her lodge. Bright Star’s eyes were soft and 
gentle like the sky of a summer day. Her own 
hair was black as a thunder cloud and hung long 
and loose about her shoulders. That of Bright 
Star, yellow as the sunbeams, was plaited like 


io6 


White Bird 


the rushes .which the red women wove into bas- 
kets. And the skin! The brook did not show, 
though White Bird felt, the difference. Her 
own was like the clay which she helped her 
mother mould into pots, while that of the white 
child was like the fresh, falling snow, or the soft 
clouds overhead. 

It might be, — it might be, — poor little White 
Bird said to herself, that if Bright Star should 
see her often, she would get used to the color of 
the red children. It must be that which fright- 
ened her. Yes, it must be that. 

^T will make her a present. It shall be a 
basket of crab shells,” White Bird decided. 
“And when it is finished, I will keep it carefully 
until we meet again. Perhaps that will drive 
out the fear from my little white sister’s heart.” 

That very evening Two Bears brought home 
great news. Samoset had paid a visit to the 
white men. He had walked straight into the 
village. Going up to the men he had said, 
“Welcome,” in their own language. 


The Meeting With Bright Star 107 


They smiled at him when they heard him, 
and when he said more English words still, they 
were much pleased. They looked at his naked 
body, for he wore only a fringe about his waist, 
and shook their heads. Then one of them got a 
cloak and laid it over his shoulders. 

‘‘Kind man! He thought I must be cold,” 
exclaimed Samoset. Then he told Two Bears 
how well he had been treated. 

Bread and butter, cheese, pudding and duck 
meat, the Pilgrims had given to their visitor, 
also strong water, which warmed him and made 
him feel good. It was a great feast. He stayed 
in one of the houses all night long. He used 
all the English words he knew in letting the 
white men know about Massasoifs tribe and of 
the Nausets, who hated the strange men and 
had fought with them before they sought a home 
at Patuxet. 

“Do not fear,” he had told them, “the red 
men care not to live at Patuxet. It is on account 
of the sickness which came there because of the 


io8 


White Bird 


bad treatment of the white men. You are wel- 
come, yes, very welcome.” 

The Pilgrims were glad to hear this, and 
when Samoset came away they gave him beauti- 
ful presents, — a knife, a bracelet and a ring. 

“I go now to Massasoit. I will come back 
soon with more of my people. We will bring 
you beaver skins which are heavy and warm. 
They will please you much.” 

An hour after Two Bears got home and told 
of Samoseds visit to Plymouth, Samoset him- 
self appeared in the lodge. Three others of his 
friends were with him. 

“To-morrow we return to the white men,” he 
told Two Bears. “Will you go with us?” 

Two Bears thought for a moment. Then he 
answered, “Yes, but we must make ourselves 
look fine, as though for a feast. We must use 
paint and put on our best garments. They shall 
not think that we are poor, or that we need 
their cloaks to keep off the cold.” 

“Ugh ! Ugh !” said the other men and nodded 


The Meeting With Bright Star 109 


their heads to show that they agreed with 
him. 

Early the next morning Two Bears began to 
get ready for his visit. White Bird, over in her 
corner, watched him as he gathered up a knot 
of long hair on the top of his head and decorated 
it with feathers. Then he blackened his face 
with stripes of paint, while his wife brought 
long deer-skin stockings which reached to his 
hips, and new moccasins in which she had 
worked a lovely pattern with colored porcupine 
quills. 

Last of all, she handed him a deer skin in 
which to wrap his shoulders, and the skin of a 
wild cat, which he carried upon his arm. Now, 
taking his bow and arrows in his hand, he was 
ready. 

“How grand, how very grand, my father is 
in his paint and feathers!” thought White Bird. 
“When Bright Star sees him she will surely 
think him beautiful.” 

Samoset also dressed himself with care. So 


no 


White Bird 


did the other red men who were going. Before 
the sun had travelled high in the morning sky, 
the party started out. Red Deer watched them 
as they disappeared down the trail. So did 
White Bird and her mother and grandmother; 
so, too, did the squaws and pappooses in the 
neighboring lodges. 

What would the white people think of these 
braves, they wondered with pride. White men 
know many things. They are wise, very wise, 
but surely they cannot make themselves look so 
grand as can the red braves. 

Little work was done in White Bird’s lodge 
that day. The women talked together about the 
visit to the Pilgrims, while Red Deer and his 
sister listened to their words. How long would 
their father stay at Plymouth, as Samoset said 
the Pilgrims had named their new home. Two 
or three days, maybe, for it was not the fashion 
of the red men to make a short call and then 
leave. No, that was not the way to treat friends. 

When the night had come, however, White 


The Meeting With Bright Star in 


Bird’s quick ears heard a sound outside, as of 
feet moving softly and swiftly over the ground. 
Yes, her father and his friends were returning. 
But Samoset was not with them. He had stayed 
behind to make a longer visit, though the Pil- 
grims had sent the others away as it was their 
day of no work, — Sunday, they called it, the 
day of the Great Spirit. 

But they were very kind and treated the red 
men well. They gave them a big feast. They 
were glad when Samoset spoke for them in Eng- 
lish and said, ‘‘We want to be friends with you.” 

So much did Two Bears and his friends like 
the Pilgrims that they sang and danced for 
them. They also wanted to trade some skins 
they had brought with them, but the Pilgrims 
shook their heads. They told Samoset to come 
to trade at some other time, as they could not 
trade on the Great Spirit’s day. 

Before Two Bears and his friends came away, 
the white men gave them fine presents. When 
White Bird looked at the shirt and the ring 


112 


White Bird 


which her father had received, she said to her- 
self, “They gave him the best presents because he 
was the tallest and the handsomest. Perhaps 
they thought he was a chief. It is no wonder. 
He is the best friend of Massasoit, and he is 
noble enough to be a chief.’’ 

“We soon go again,” Two Bears said. “And 
Massasoit will go with us. So he told us. 
All of our braves will go too, and it may be 
that we will take our squaws and papooses. 
We will show the white men how great is our 
tribe 1” 

Had White Bird been a white child she would 
have jumped up and down with delight. But 
she did not move, though her eyes sparkled with 
gladness. They shone like wampum when it 
is newly polished. 


CHAPTER IX 

THE VISIT 

A fter what seemed like long hours of 
waiting, White Bird and her brother 
stood in front of the lodge. Smiling 
Brook was with them. The great body of braves 
was already on the move, — sixty of them. Many 
were dressed in their very best, with their hair 
greased and twisted into wonderful shapes. Fox 
tails, eagle and turkey feathers spread out from 
the tops of their heads and waved magnificently 
as the air blew them, now this way, and now 
that. 

The paint had been laid on the faces with 
the greatest care, — red and yellow, black and 
white, in stripes and crosses, or perhaps cover- 
ing the cheeks entirely. Many were the hand- 
some leggins worn that day, trimmed with fringe 

113 


114 


White Bird 


and decorated with porcupine quills worked in 
different patterns. Everyone, of course, carried 
bow and arrows. They were a goodly company 
of braves, that was certain. 

“There goes the good chief Massasoit,” whis- 
pered Smiling Brook to White Bird. “Is he 
not a noble chief?” 

“He talks little, but he is very wise,” answered 
White Bird. 

Massasoit’s face was painted red and shone 
with the oil he had spread over it. A chain of 
wooden beads hung around his neck, from be- 
hind which dangled a small bag of tobacco. In 
his bosom he carried a long knife. He was 
dressed no more grandly, however, than Two 
Bears, or any of the others of his followers. It 
was only the chain of beads and the knife which 
spoke, saying, “Here is the great chief of the 
Wampanoags.” 

When the last brave had entered the trail, the 
squaws and papooses followed after them, but 
there was little noise, no loud talking and laugh- 


The Visit 


ter, no shouts, no jokes one with another as there 
would have been among white people. 

No, the whole tribe moved quickly but with 
scarcely a sound except the light pressing of the 
feet upon the ground. They felt that they had 
a very important errand to perform. They 
were going to make a bond of friendship with 
the Pilgrims. 

When they reached the last piece of woods, 
they stopped. Only one more hill to be crossed 
and Plymouth would be in sight! 

^^Go, you,” said Massasoit, pointing to Squanto 
and Samoset. “You can talk the language of the 
white men. Three others of our braves shall 
bear you company. Take dried herrings which 
our squaws have brought, also these furs to trade 
with the white men. Tell them I wait here, — 
I and my people.” 

After the messengers had gone, the rest of 
the tribe squatted about under the trees, watch- 
ing and waiting. An hour passed and yet there 
was no sound of returning feet. Then Massa- 


ii6 


White Bird 


soit rose, and with him his brother Quadre- 
quina. 

“Follow me!” he said to the other braves. 
“Let us go to the top of yonder hill. There we 
shall stand, and the white men can look upon 
us from their village.” 

The line of red men started out, and the 
women and children, from the woodland, 
watched them take their places on the summit 
of the hill. 

Soon afterwards Squanto and Samoset came 
back to them from the village, and with them 
was a white man clad all in armor, with a shin- 
ing sword at his side. They brought gifts to 
Massasoit, — two knives, and a copper chain set 
with a large bright stone. And to Quadrequina 
they brought gifts also, — one knife and a bright 
stone to set in his ear, also biscuit and butter and 
a pot of firewater. 

Though White Bird and Red Deer strained 
their eyes, they did not know till afterwards what 
these presents were. They could see Massasoit 


The Visit 


117 


eating and drinking what had been brought, 
and laying his hands upon the white man’s 
armor as though he wished it himself. 

Then, watching, the children saw him and 
twenty other braves lay down their bows and 
arrows and follow Squanto down to the village. 
Two Bears was among them. But the white 
man remained behind with Quadrequina. It 
was as much as to say, “My people will do no 
harm to your red men. I stay here with you 
while your friends are with my people, so that 
you shall have no fear of their being hurt.” 

When Massasoit and his twenty braves 
reached the brook at the foot of the hill, other 
white men came out to meet him and led the 
way to their home. 

“I hope our father is safe, and that the white 
men will not set a trap for him and the good 
chief Massasoit,” said Red Deer, half to him- 
self. But his sister heard him. Her black eyes 
shone as she threw back her long hair from her 
face and said, “My brother, the white men are 


ii8 


White Bird 


good. Samoset and Squanto have both said it. 
Our father will come back to us safe.” 

Then the little girl went off by herself to 
a quiet spot in the woods where she lay down 
on the ground and thought about the'people in 
the village over the hill and, most of all, of 
Bright Star, with her soft eyes like the sky and 
her golden hair like the sunshine. 

The long black shadows of night had made 
their way down between the tree tops before 
Massasoit and his friends returned to their peo- 
ple. Samoset and Squanto were having such a 
good time that they stayed behind. 

“The white men are good, very good; we 
smoked the pipe of peace with them,” said Two 
Bears to his squaw. 

Then he went on to describe the visit. The 
Pilgrims had led Massasoit to a wooden lodge 
which they were then building. There they 
spread before him a carpet of green, and soft 
cushions where he should rest himself. Then 
came the ruler of the white men, — Governor, 


The Visit 


119 


they called him, — and with him was a man mak- 
ing a noise on a big drum and another blowing 
through a strange object called a trumpet. That, 
too, made a big noise. 

Other men were at hand carrying the fire- 
weapons which the red people feared so greatly; 
but the white chief, the Governor, bent over and 
laid his lips on Massasoit’s hand in a loving kiss. 
And the good Massasoit returned the kiss. 

Then the two sat down together on the carpet 
and drank strong water together. Never had 
the red chief tasted anything like it before. It 
brought the tears to his eyes and sweat all over 
his body. After this came meat which the 
white squaws had cooked. When this had been 
eaten, peace was made, with the help of Squanto 
and Samoset, who explained to their friends the 
meaning of the white men’s words. 

Always, so Massasoit promised, he and his 
tribe would be the friends of the Pilgrims. They 
would do them no harm whatever. Moreover, 
if other tribes sought to make war on the white 


120 


White Bird 


men, they, the Wampanoags, would take the 
part of the white men. 

After Massasoit had solemnly promised these 
things, he and his braves were led back to the 
brook, where the white chief and he embraced 
each other as brothers, and then parted. 

All that night White Bird and her people re- 
mained in the woods. Then, when morning 
came, still other braves went down to the village 
and were feasted royally. The Pilgrims filled 
a large kettle with peas and sent it back with 
them to Massasoit, who was much pleased with 
the gift. 

“Now, my braves, we will return fo our 
lodges,” he told them. “But see that ever after 
we and these white men are as brothers to each 
other.” 


CHAPTER X 

A WHITE SISTER AT LAST 

W HITE BIRD was squatting under a 
big tree near the lodge and working 
busily on the present which she had 
planned weeks ago for Bright Star. It was a 
basket of crab shells put together so daintily that 
the little white girl would wonder how it was 
done. And White Bird had worked every bit of 
it herself. 

She held it up now in the light. Delicate 
pink shells had been chosen, so that it was the 
color of Bright Star’s cheeks after a run on the 
beach, where White Bird got a glimpse of her 
a few days ago. 

And now she, White Bird, would have a 
chance to put it in her small hand, for she was 
going to Plymouth on the morrow, — she and her 
brother and her parents. That very moment 

. 121 


122 


White Bird 


her mother was coming up from the shore with 
a pail full of lobsters which she had just caught. 
Ugly, green things they were, with small wicked 
eyes; but the meat was delicious. They were to 
be carried to Plymouth as a present to the white 
people. 

^Tf only we can go to the lodge where my 
Bright Star lives,” thought White Bird. ‘‘Then 
I shall watch her eat one of these very lobsters.” 

Two Bears also had a gift ready to carry. 
It was a turkey which he had shot that day. As 
for Red Deer, he had spent all of the last even- 
ing spearing eels in the moonlight, and now he 
had a basket brimming full of the wriggling, 
delicious creatures. 

“We carry a feast to white people,” said Two 
Bears, when he started out with his family the 
next morning. “But they will give us good 
things to bring back, — maybe bright cloth and 
shining chains. Yes, they will be generous, too.” 

It was a beautiful summer day. The birds 
sang their gayest songs ; the bees hummed busily. 


A White Sister at Last 


123 


and flowers in the open spaces turned their 
bright heads towards the sun. Many a wild 
strawberry vine was loaded with its juicy fruit, 
and the sweet odor was very tempting ; but White 
Bird did not linger. Was she not on her way 
to see her dream come true? She was going to 
claim her white sister. 

The brook was crossed, the last hill climbed, 
and the village was reached at last. But now 
White Bird lost her courage, and stayed close 
at her mother’s heels, while Two Bears and his 
son went ahead with long, soft strides. 

A white man came out of one of the houses, 
another, and still another. White Bird, casting 
a shy look upward, but still clinging to her 
mother, peeped into their faces. Stern they 
seemed, yet good. They made signs of friend- 
ship to Two Bears ; each took his hand and shook 
it. 

Then they turned towards his wife and mo- 
tioned to her to enter one of the houses. In the 
doorway stood a woman, and beside her was 


124 


White Bird 


yes, yes, it was Bright Star herself, — Bright 
Star with no cap covering her golden hair now, 
but wearing a white apron, which reached down 
to the edge of her long, dark dress. The white 
child seemed scared and hid behind her mother’s 
skirts, peeping out, however, with those wonder- 
ful eyes of blue, at the little Indian girl who 
stood tightly clutching the crab-shell basket she 
had made with such care. 

‘Welcome,” said the white woman. She 
opened the door wider and motioned to White 
Bird’s mother to come in. The men, after smil- 
ingly accepting the gifts which Two Bears and 
his son had brought them, led them down the 
street to show them the village. 

Slowly and a little fearfully, the red woman 
followed the bidding of her hostess. Yet she was 
curious, too, and when she was once inside the 
strange and orderly room she began to look 
around at the prim, straight-backed chairs and 
the wooden table with the big Bible lying open 


A White Sister at Last 


125 


upon it and the dishes on the shelves against the 
wall. 

“Sit down,” said the white woman now, as 
she drew two of the straight chairs from against 
the wall. White Bird’s mother knew what she 
meant, for Squanto had described the furniture 
of the white men many times. But it took a 
good deal of courage to bend herself into the 
seat of the chair. Still, with an “Ugh,” the red 
woman sat down stiffly; but White Bird, still 
close beside her, remained standing. 

Clutching the crab-shell basket, she kept her 
eyes on Bright Star, who was now getting over 
her fear. Squanto was a guest in the village so 
often nowadays that she was becoming used to 
the sight of red people, and Squanto had shown 
himself such a good friend. He had taught her 
father how to plant corn so that it would grow 
fast. Many a basket of eels had he brought and 
put in the ground where the corn was to be 
planted. Many a bird had been killed by his 


126 


White Bird 


arrows and brought to the Pilgrims. Even 
though the red people looked so wild and fierce, 
they were showing themselves to be true friends 
to the white men in their strange new home. 

Therefore, before many minutes. Bright Star 
dared to smile at her little visitor. It was a very 
grave smile, and the corners of the little mouth 
twitched ever so little, yet it was a smile, after 
all. 

White Bird caught it, and her eyes, which 
had been seeking the floor quite steadily since 
she came in, smiled back. Then, while the 
white woman who was Bright Star’s mother left 
the room for a minute, she spoke. It was just 
one word, ‘‘Welcome.” 

She had learned it from Squanto and had not 
forgotten that he used it when he first met the 
Pilgrims and that it seemed to please them. 

“Welcome,” answered Bright Star, and her 
smile grew broader. Then at last. White Bird 
grew brave. She held out the crab-shell basket 
towards Bright Star, and at the same time 


A White Sister at Last 


127 


touched her lips to the white child’s delicate 
little hand, even as she had seen Massasoit do 
to the Pilgrim chief. 

And Bright Star! the softest ripple of a laugh 
bubbled right out of her mouth, and then she 
reached out her arms! For a moment, — such a 
short, short moment, — she clasped the red child. 

The dream had come true. White Bird had 
gained her white sister, and the light of the Star 
was shining straight into her heart. 


THE END 




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